


crybaby

by Sotong_sotong



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Genderbending, Iwaizumi's a girl here, SASO 2016, and keeps thinking so until elementary school, but young gullible Tooru mistakes her for a boy at first sight, cue old married couple bickering though they're just 7, then his world gets upended, why are they like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotong_sotong/pseuds/Sotong_sotong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Tooru, at six years old, creates a new connection, and misses some Very Important cues about his best friend until their first year of elementary school.</p><p>(aka the cheesy iwaoi childhood genderbend AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	crybaby

**Author's Note:**

> written as a prompt fill for SASO 2016, bonus round 1: memory. the prompt was: [Remember when Oikawa thought Iwa-chan was a boy for the first seven years of his life, up until they enrolled in elementary school and Oikawa was forced to acknowledge that he missed Something Important?](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4545713#cmt4545713)
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> the fic starts off in Tooru's POV, thus, him using male pronouns for Iwaizumi initially. I tried to keep it neutral after that until he realises Iwa-chan's actually a girl, so please forgive me if I seemed disrespectful anywhere OTL also I mistook seven years as seventh year RIP

When Tooru is six years old, he falls down and scrapes his knees.

Being six years old means he’s on that line where it’s too babyish to cry over something so small, yet still too young to _not_ to either. And that’s something Tooru still struggles with.

Gehh, it’s not like his body listens to him anyway: Tooru’s lips wibble, his eyes shimmer wetly.

( _”Mama’s boy, mama’s boy!,”_ the kids at _youchien_ jeer any moment he starts sniffling, and Tooru’s not!)

(His eyes just like to water themselves sometimes, that’s all.)

A huge tear _plops_ onto his cheek.

(Really!)

Tooru was standing on one of the swings’ seat in his neighbourhood playground, futilely trying to swing himself upwards; so intent was he on trying to rise that he didn’t realise he’d slipped, and then, there’s the cold hard ground. 

All the other kids who were playing there stop and stare, whispering back and forth _look, look, he’s fallen!_ and _that’s what you get for trying to show off!_. None move to help.

(Tooru didn’t mean to show off when he stood on the swing seat; he just didn’t have anyone to help push.)

The sting on both his kneecaps spikes worse, and that’s when Tooru starts bawling honestly.

In turn, the whispers around him grow louder: _crybaby, crybaby, crybaby, crybaby—_

“Hey, hey! You okay?”

A small tanned face swims into Tooru’s clouded vision. One warm hand rubs his back, and another slips around his waist; Tooru’s body is pressed against somebody as they support his weight while making him stand up. They slowly lead him to a bench and set him there, dusting off whatever dirt sticking to his legs and pants.

When Tooru wipes his face, he sees clearer. 

“T-Thank you,” Tooru squeaks out to the other boy in front of him, “thank you for helping me.”

The boy blinks, then, shrugs. His hand comes up to pat Tooru’s head. “S’nothing. We need to get those scrapes cleaned up so wait here.”

He strides to the playground’s drinking fountain, collecting some water into his palms before running back to wet Tooru’s knees. Tooru jerks when the cool water drips onto his wounds but he bites his lip to stifle anymore sounds because he doesn’t want to look too bad in front of a person who’s nice to him.

Tooru looks up when he hears the sound of plastic crinkling. A lollipop comes to bop his nose.

“Here, that’ll cheer you up.” His ‘helper’ unwraps the sweet and pushes it against Tooru’s lips. Tooru opens his mouth and accepts it, nose wrinkling when he realises its orange-flavoured. 

He pouts. “It’s orange. I don’t like orange.”

Helper-kun folds his arms while raising one eyebrow. “You don’t get to be picky. Shut up and be thankful for it.”

Tooru huffs, looking to the side with the most put upon expression he can muster, which isn’t all too hard since he’s in actual pain right now. He watches the boy reach into his pants’ pocket again, a packet of plasters emerge this time, and it makes Tooru giggle a bit.

“You’re like Doraemon,” he informs the other sagely, “you keep pulling things out of your pocket.”

The boy snorts at that, but he also grins. “Sure, whatever. I just like to keep stuff around just in case.” He gestures to the plasters on his own arms in explanation.

Tooru nods at them. “You’re really manly, aren’t you?”

 _”Haaa—?,”_ Helper-kun scoffs. He leans down to apply a plaster on each of Tooru’s knees, and blows on them as if to chase away the discomfort. “Why?”

“You’ve got so many plasters on, that means you’re used to getting hurt and not crying about it.”

“Huh, not really. I’m just used to the pain.”

A finger finds its way towards Tooru’s forehead in order to flick it.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re weaker if you can’t stand it. It’s your body’s way of telling you to be more careful next time.”

Tooru smiles waterily. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

The boy lets out a _tch_ , and looks away.

 

This is how Tooru, at six years old, creates a new connection; he learns of Helper-kun’s name and makes him promise to meet at the playground again tomorrow, his brain furiously memorising this new information as he goes home.

(After all, “Hajime” is his first proper friend in ages.)

 

*

 

“Iwa-chan.” Tooru plants his hands on his hips and pouts for all the world to see.

“No,” comes Hajime’s steady refusal, not paying much mind to Tooru when there’s a beetle crawling about. The net Hajime has brought lies on the ground, forgotten.

“But Hajime-chan’s too much of a mouthful! Iwa-chan sounds just right!”

“I call you Tooru, not To-chan, or Ru-chan, or Toorururu-chan, don’t I? What’s so hard about mine?”

He struggles to answer for a few minutes, then, softly mumbles, “Because I’ve never had the chance to give anyone a nickname before and you’re my very first friend. Best friend even!”

Hajime’s ears flushes slightly, glancing slowly at Tooru’s miserable form. Sighing, Hajime gets up and ruffles Tooru’s hair not too roughly. “You do realise that you’ll get more friends in the future, right?”

Tooru doesn’t respond.

Hajime sighs again. Wearily so.

“Fine, fine. Call me whatever you want. Just don’t be too annoying about it.”

Tooru lights up, visibly brightening like the skies lit by fireworks during Tanabata festivals.

He flings himself on Hajime and hugs his friend as tightly as he hugs his alien plushies back home.

 

(Hajime whacks the upside of his head for that, complaining that it’s too hard to breathe.)

(But Tooru is hugged back anyway and Tooru is grateful.)

 

*

 

The first time Tooru invites Hajime to his house, his mother covers her laughter behind a dainty hand.

She bends down to Hajime’s level, her smile so gentle it puts his friend immediately to ease. “Hello there! Are you the infamous “Iwa-chan” Tooru’s been talking about non-stop lately?”

“ _Okaa-san!_ ,” Tooru squawks, moving to her side to hide his face behind her back. “I do not!”

She laughs a bit more at that and shakes the hand that Hajime offers out. “It’s nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-chan. Thank you for making Tooru so happy.”

Hajime seems a bit abashed by that.

Tooru, on the other hand, is _extremely_ horrified by that.

(Why must adults be so embarrassing?!)

He sniffles, sobs starting up, but Hajime beats him to it through pinching his nose just as he opens his mouth to wail.

“Oi, stop that! It’s my first time here and you want to spoil it already?”

He stops, blinking slowly as he shakes his head. “No.”

Hajime lets go but not entirely, hand returning to rub Tooru’s head. “C’mon. Show me the volleyball you said you got last week.”

Tooru hums happily, turning to his mother to nuzzle against her shoulder for their permission to go up to his room and get it. “Okaa-san, can we go play in my room?”

Oikawa-san looks incredibly amused by her son’s antics and his friend’s reactions to it, wisely choosing not to comment as she stands up again. “Of course. Just leave the door open, alright?”

There’s a chorus of _yes!_ , then, they’re scrambling off.

 

In his haste, Tooru doesn’t notice his mother lifting a finger to tap at her chin wonderingly while she watches them go.

 

“Tooru told me that “Iwa-chan” is a boy, but isn’t Iwaizumi-chan actually a— oh, nevermind.”

 

*

 

The following year finds them both at seven years old, enrolled in the same elementary school in Miyagi. 

On their first day of school, Tooru gets up, quickly getting ready because he promised to walk with Iwaizumi to class. He fumbles while putting on his uniform and his tie is askew but nothing is scarier than an Iwaizumi made to wait too long so that’s that. When he’s downstairs, he rushes into the kitchen to gulp down a glass of milk and stuff a piece of toast into his mouth, muffledly saying _bye-bye!_ as his parents wish him a safe trip.

He sees someone with familiar black hair standing outside the gate, eagerly calls out, “Iwa-chan—“

Iwaizumi turns around in a cardigan over their school’s uniform, and a skirt.

Tooru’s toast drops from his mouth.

_”Iwa-chan!!!”_

“Shut up! It’s rude to be so loud in the morning!”

“But—but, Iwa-chan, you’re in a skirt! Did you forget your pants or something? Oh, oh, did you burn it while ironing?”

A vein starts to pop up on Iwaizumi’s forehead. “Even if I did burn it, _why would I wear a skirt instead_!?”

“Because Iwa-chan doesn’t have any spares?,” Tooru clicks his tongue. “Sloppy Iwa-chan. Do you need to borrow mine? I can run back upstairs.”

At that, Iwaizumi does burst, and, oh, the fury is _real_.

**”KUSOKAWA, WHAT PART OF ME NOW SCREAMS THAT I’M NOT A GIRL, HAAA—!?”**

 

Tooru blinks. “You’re actually a girl?”

The atmosphere around them very suddenly turns stale. Just like his toast on the ground.

 

“Oikawa.”

“Yes, Iwa-chan?”

“Did you spend the whole of last year thinking that I was a boy?”

“You were all brutish and short-haired like one. Flat like one too.”

Iwaizumi steps over and stomps on Tooru’s shoes. Tooru yelps, his whines reaching all new heights in both pitch and despondency.

“That’s not fair! It’s not like you told me that you’re actually a girl either!” Tooru squints for a bit. “In fact, neither of our parents mentioned it as well.”

Iwaizumi rolls her eyes , reaches up to grab Tooru’s ear, pulling him out towards the main road. All he can do is wince and follow, griping mutinously like a baby.

(He isn’t that much of a crybaby now though. Not any longer.)

She lets go once he lapses into silence. Glances back to look him in the eyes, saying, “Congratulations, idiot. Now you finally realise that I’m a girl.”

Tooru makes dead eyes right back at her and sticks his tongue out. He gets it already. “Please tell me you’re buying me lunch later because that toast was my only breakfast today. It’s your fault I dropped it in the first place, Iwa-chan.”

He yelps again when she backs up to punch his shoulder. _Hard_.

“You’re horrible.”

“Touché.”

Iwaizumi looks at him again though, uncertainty passing through her face the slightest bit. “This changes nothing between us, right? Oikawa?”

(Ah. This is the first time he’s seen Hajime nervous.)

Tooru smiles genuinely and _is_ genuine in what he says next, “Of course not! Iwa-chan could be a girl, a boy, or a monster even— not that you don’t act like one already— but you’re you. And whoever you are, now or in the future, will always be someone important to me.”

That shuts Iwaizumi up but her eyes crinkle warmly. She elbows him in the side, then, runs ahead.

“Last one to reach the school gate has to do the both of our homework for the rest of the week!”

Now, _that_ is where the true horror lies.

And so they race.

 

(Years later, when they’re both in junior high school and Tooru’s a little taller, and Hajime a little more curvier, Tooru lets out an _oh!_ and claps his palms together in pride.)

(“You’re finally not flat anymore, Iwa-chan! Well, not so flat, that is.”)

(The con to dating the female volleyball team’s captain makes itself prominently known when she unleashes the worst headbutt he’s ever experienced in his life.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and concrits are always welcomed! :D


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